


go now.

by guti



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Juventus Turin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: Calcio is dying.  The way they play is dying.  Slow.  Defensive.  Uncompetitive.  Boring.  The national team is all of those things, has been for years now.  And the league?  It suffers a similar disease.  It’s stagnant.  It’s collapsing.  It’s a disaster.  Even with their squad acting as a beacon of what could be, lighting the way toward a revival, the rest of the league act as idiot moths knocking into windows and walls, unable to keep pace.It’s bad for business.  It’ll all go to hell unless everything modernizes.





	go now.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dame5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dame5/gifts).



It isn’t a sudden thing, when he realizes it’s all over. There’s no one moment he can point to as the beginning of the end. Instead, it felt more gradual, slowly creeping up on him, like some sort of dormant virus that took up residence in him years ago before rearing it’s ugly head and making itself known. The whole thing seems surreal. One day everything is normal. The next, he’s been sat down in a room with dark, black wood and large windows and being told his time has come. Then it’s as if he’s come out of a fog. He blinks a few times and comes to an understanding. It’s unfair. It’s not right. But he understands.

Everyone has an expiration date in this game. Unfair and cruel as it can be, that’s a fact. It’s one he’d accepted long ago, before he’d ever strapped on his boots and joined his idols on the pitch. One day they’d be gone, and he’d still be there. He’d carry on the mantel for them; it was his honor, his duty. He’s not supposed to leave now. That’s not the plan. That was never the plan.

_Things don’t always work out, though. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you work, you can still fail. You can do everything exactly right and still be cut from the team._

No, not the team. _Your_ team. The club belongs to you as much as it belongs to anyone. You've lived and breathed and bled for them for your entire life. It's part of your soul. It's part of _you_. Fuck that. Fuck _them_.

He wants to shout, scream, lash out at something, anything in his way. After twenty-five years, they toss him out this way? And say he’s _agreed_ to it? What choice did he have? He refuses and he’s a troublemaker. His reputation is shot. No one else would take him on if he fights it. So he rolls over and submits. That’s not an agreement. It’s an ambush. 

He doesn’t agree! Not to this, not to any of it! His mind races. Why is this happening? Why now? Why _now_?

He’s not too old. Thirty-two is hardly too old. Look at Alex. Look at their new signing. Look at _Gigi_. They can’t say he’s too old with a track record like that.

It’s not his age. He knows that before entertaining the thought. He’s not even his knee, though he’s certain there’s been relentless discussion of his fitness at every opportunity. No, he knows what’s going on, and it’s bigger than just one simple man kicking a ball around in his childhood club.

Calcio is dying. The way they play is dying. Slow. Defensive. Uncompetitive. Boring. The national team is all of those things, has been for years now. And the league? It suffers a similar disease. It’s stagnant. It’s collapsing. It’s a disaster. Even with their squad acting as a beacon of what could be, lighting the way toward a revival, the rest of the league act as idiot moths knocking into windows and walls, unable to keep pace.

It’s bad for business. It’ll all go to hell unless everything modernizes.

_Never mind two trips to the finals in five years. Never mind four cups in a row. Never mind seven straight titles. Never mind twenty-five years._

He’s a dinosaur in a world full of mammals.

People around him are still talking, heaving on accolades, praising him, thanking him for his years of loyalty, his hard work, his dedication. Someone else thanks him for understanding the direction the club is headed in. Another suggests a few other clubs who might be interested.

Claudio can’t think about any of that now. Maybe later, when the cut isn’t so fresh, once he isn’t bleeding out in front of everyone, helpless to stop the wheels that have been in motion for the past several seasons. Once he’s alone he can lick his wounds and muster something more than just a small nod here and there. Once he hasn’t had the wind knocked out of him.

Now all he can feel is betrayal.

Even the weather betrays him. The sun beats down, blisteringly hot. The air is unmercifully humid. And here he is, at the worst moment of his life, without a cloud or rainstorm in sight. It’s unforgivable. At least it could be windy, give him a reason to shiver, to pull on some jacket and let himself be comforted by it. Instead, it’s August. Miserable, beautiful, warm. He has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt just to feel an ounce of comfort. He only has his sunglasses to hide behind, and today they’re not nearly enough.

_They’re going in a different direction. They’re moving on without you._

No pill has ever been so hard to swallow. Nothing’s ever caught in his throat or made him choke like that. But still, there’s a little nagging thought in the back of his head. It’s an annoying little reminder, saying again and again _It's alright. It's okay. I get it. I understand_.

When the meeting ends, and all the rambling is over, he’s given a moment alone in that big, bright boardroom. There’s nothing left for him to collect before he leaves, nothing of his left behind to grab from anywhere else on the campus. He’s given twenty-five years of his life to this club— the best years of his life, some might say. Twenty-five years crying and sweating and bleeding for one love and one love only. And now it’s over. It’s all gone.

He rolls down the driver’s side window before backing out. Once he reaches the gated exit he presses the brake and glances quickly at the rearview mirror. Behind him lies his own field of dreams, surrounded by intricate architecture, a modern fortress of lights and steel. His days of service are done. He isn’t a knight of her realm any longer. He turns his eyes away, and once the gate is fully open, Claudio drives away. 

He refuses to look back again.

**Author's Note:**

> for dame5: greetings, dear one. i hope this fic finds you well. this is my first time writing juve-centric/related fic, so i hope i've done claudio some justice. i'll actually be in turin next week visiting with family, so maybe it will inspire me further (no promises though, as i am engaged with a milanista haha!) 
> 
> back to the fic: i spent a lot of time thinking about everything claudio has been through, and what he's given to the club. i spent a lot of time talking with my fiance and his friends (milan & inter supporters alike) trying to pin down what the hell is going on in italian football right now and why everything seems so out of sorts. i found it all interesting and inspiring. and i think claudio himself is interesting and inspiring, and seeing photos of him in zenit clothes seems so weird, but he looks so happy, and that in turn makes me happy.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy it, and here's the title inspiration track [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h42kzEA9l8Q)].


End file.
